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"Enough, father, enough," exclaimed Mercy, rushing forward and snatching the weapon from their hands. "Long have you reigned, and your inclinations been our father's law. Now forbear: is it not fit that my wishes should sometimes be listened to? Am not I also the king's daughter?"

"Truly hast thou spoken, sister," rejoined Justice; "long have we reigned. Yea, and long will we preserve our authority: but come, let us call back our brother, who is wiser than us all, and let him be our judge."

Then Candidus, who had been hastening the needful preparations for his departure, returned to the king's apartment, and heard how Justice and Truth demanded the infliction of the law, whilst Mercy and Peace advocated a free forgiveness.

"My beloved sisters," said Candidus, "the flight of our sister Peace, whom your miserable shifts has driven away, little satisfies. This ought not to be and shall not. As for my faithless wife, I am prepared to undergo her punishment myself."

"If this be your determination, oh my brother,” said Justice, "we cannot oppose you."

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"Sister," said the prince, turning to Mercy, your endeavour to restore my hapless wife. But, should I receive her and she again falls into sin, do you design to renew your intercession?"

"Yes, brother, again and again, if she be but penitent." Then the prince conducted back his sister Peace, and caused each of the others to embrace her in turn: and when concord was thus restored, he set out in search of his penitent wife, and brought her back with every honour.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM'S POEMS.

THIS little volume consists of the poetry of a man who was in every way worthy of following in the footsteps of the immortal Burns. Sir Walter Scott Scotland's high priest in the regions of historical romance, himself a poet, and an excellent critic of poetry-was one of the first to recognise the genius of Allan Cunningham, and his discrimination, assisted by the zealous enthusiasm of the Ettrick Shepherd, brought the humble-minded sculptor into public notice.

It is speaking in language higher than all words of praise to say, that there are some verses in this book which Burns himself might have written. To those who love the sweet phrases, and soft and harmonious utterances, of true Scottish song, the lyrics will prove treasures indeed-household beauties, to be sung and listened to through many a summer's day. The collection is divided into three parts; the first containing the imitations of the old ballad Jacobite reliques. These ballads were published in 1810, and brought out by Cromek as veritable remains of Nithsdale and Galloway song. "Short-sighted man,”—“ Bonnie Lady Anne,""It's hame and it's hame," -"She's gane to dwall in Heaven," and "Thou hast sworn," are conceived in a spirit of the most poetical fervour. "The Return of Spring" is a lovely composition.

"Cauld Winter is awa', my love,
And Spring is in her prime,

The breath o' heaven stirs a' to life-
The grasshoppers to chime;
The birds canna contain themsels

Upon the sprouting tree;

But loudly, loudly sing o' love

A theme which pleaseth me.

The blackbird is a pawkie loun,

And kens the gate o' love,

Fu' weel the sleekit mavis kens

The melting lilt maun move,

The gowd-spink woos in gentle note,

And ever singeth he,

Come here, come here, my spousal dame,--A theme which pleaseth me.

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What says the sangster rose-linnet ?
His breast is beating high:
Come here, come here, my ruddy mate,
The gate o' love to try.

The lav'rock calls his freckled mate,
Frae near the sun's ec-bree;

Come, make on the knowe our nest, my love,-
A theme which pleaseth me."

The verses which follow, and conclude the song, are equally good, and will remind the reader of the "Smiling Spring," a song written by Burns for Johnson's " Musical Museum ;" and one of his most charming lyrics.

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'The Mermaid of Galloway," we regret, is too long for our columns, and to quote a line of it in any way would be a sorry mutilation. It is a romantic legend, garbed in a dress of the choicest poetry.

The Second Part consists of Poems and Miscellaneous Pieces. Listen to the "Poet's Invitation : "

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"My youngest, fairest, come;
For not the sunshine following showers,
Nor fruit buds to the wintry bowers,
Nor ladye-bracken to the hind,
Nor warm bark to the tender rind,
Nor song-bird to the sprouting tree,
Nor heath-bell to the gathering bee,
Nor golden daylight to sad eyes,
Nor morn-star showing larks to rise,
Nor son long lost in some far part,
Who leaps back to his mother's heart,
Nor lily to Dalswinton lea,

Nor moonlight to the fairy,
Can be so dear as thou to me,
My youngest one, my Mary.

The sea-pieces are enough to rouse the blood of all the 'English gentlemen who live at home at ease." There is a daring vaunt in them which will find an echo in the and best mistress. But more to our taste is the " Poet's heart of many a sailor who loves the sea as his dearest Bridal-day song." There is a tenderness and beauty in this which makes itself felt and understood in a moment.

has music in it. It is to be hoped that it may find some The Third Part is made up of Songs. The very first one among our living composers who will marry it to a melody worthy of its vigour.

"A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast,
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While, like the eagle free,
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lea.

*

There's tempest in yon horned moon,
And lightning in yon cloud;
And hark, the music, mariners!
The wind is piping loud;

The wind is piping loud, my boys,
The Eightning flashing free-

While the hollow oak our palace is,
Our heritage the sea."

No description of a poet's ladye-love can exceed in simplicity and natural grace the lines that occur in "Know ye the fair one." Here is real poetry

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"Her lips are like the red rosebud,

Dew-parted in a morn of June,

Her voice is gentler than the sound

Of some far heard and heavenly tune."

"The Broken Heart of Annie" is a fair specimen of the earnest force of a man who writes with the feelings genuine and inherent in a lover of the beautiful. Culling flowers alike in ladye's garden or on heathery moor, the poet is ever true and faithful to his vocation; he tunes his lyre to resonance with the fond emotions that glad den his inmost heart, regardless whether the music floats along the delicate perceptions of his brain, caught from tones that swell in lordly hall, or wander from

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peasant lips on village green--so that he retains the melody ere it is lost to him for ever. Of the right craft was Allan Cunningham, and it is a worthy tribute to the memory of so excellent and amiable a father, that his son has in this shape brought together all that he could collect of remains so valuable.

Before quitting this very interesting volume, let us recommend the patient consideration of the modesty which so long a time shrouded its author from public observation, to the aspirant for worldly honoursworldly fame. It is a merit not very common in these high-pressure, progressive times. For the rest, very dull must that heart be, whose throbbings are not quickened by the perusal of many of these sweet songs.

RAMBLES IN BELGIUM.

No. VI.-NAMUR & HUY.

and is stated to have been the unassisted work of a monk of the order of Jesus.

There was no necessity or wish to stay longer at Namur, especially as Liege was to be attained on the morrow; so, packing the baggage into the vigilante, which was to follow with the lady of the penknife and her friend, I set out with a dapper little Frenchman to walk part of the road by the Meuse. It was a fine afternoon, and the sun, pouring down his warmest rays, lit the whole route with a genial influence. My companion was in raptures, everything was couleur de rose, the air was so light and so bright, the river so cool, so deliciously captivating, the scenery so majestic, that in his phrases I began to think hyperbole was thoroughly exhausted. Nothing could or would arrest his exclamations, which were so constantly on the increase, that on arriving at a turn of the road, where the river was making an angle, as if to show how sportive Nature will be, a fresh series broke out with redoubled vigour, to such an extent, indeed, that I feared nothing but the waters of the Meuse could cool him. However, on we rambled till night and the vigilante overtook us at the door of a small hostelrie, where I was rash enough to taste a most horrible liqueur, called Absinthe, the remembrance of which clings to my palate yet, and which "no rhubarb, senna, or purgative draught," can exceed in bitterness. I must be a faithful chronicler, and as such confess that it was highly relished by all my fellowtravellers. It was late when we entered Huy, and rest was very needful after our long walk. Morning was over the Meuse before I could lose myself, an effect of restlessness, tired as I was, I could not help attributing to the execrable Absinthe.

Huy is, like Namur, strongly fortified; its situation on the river is most romantic. The fortress is placed on a rock, and commands the river on either side. Every one of the little party wished to see the works, and permission having been accorded, we paced through them. The rock itself is made to assist in forming places for cannon, &c., where it has been excavated with great care. It is due to the authorities to say that they were very obliging and courteous, sparing no pains to show and explain every thing that attracted our notice. A very richly carved gateway abuts on the cathedral, which is said to have been founded by Peter the Hermit. hasty glance at the interior was sufficient to see that it was of the Gothic order, and of very elegant design.

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FROM the moment I set foot at Ostend, on Flemish soil, to the time of my departure from Waterloo, I had seen nothing but a flat, level, though fertile, country. The scenery on the road to Namur, however, improves at every step. The banks of the Meuse are beautiful. After passing Sombreffe and Temploux, the road winds a devious way through a most luxuriant valley, on one side of which may be seen the lovely river gliding on, skirting banks and rocks covered with vegetation in its richest garb; and every now and then adorned with a picturesque chateau. There was one point in particular which reminded me of my old favourite ride from Bakewell to Matlock,-the same masses of ivy-covered rock, the same sort of trees growing in every occasional crevice, and the river below like a glittering snake, all bright in the glowing sunshine. There is a hill before Namur can be entered, which is very steep, and adds to the effect of the striking situation of the old town. There is a drawbridge and several very tortuous alleys, all which had to be crossed and traversed before I could reach the Hotel de Harscamp. I was astonished to see the number of cutlers' shops in one of the strange irregular streets, forgetting for the moment that I was in the Belgian Sheffield. If the knives that lay before us at the Hotel, and with which we attempted to cut our meat, when summoned to the early table-d'-hôte, were an example of the manufactory of steel, I may safely It was necessary to cross a bridge on our retreat from say my Yorkshire acquaintance need be under no sort Huy, and to pursue the road to Liege on the left bank of of apprehension of being cut out. A lady who was de- the river. We had proceeded a short distance further, termined to test the merits of some articles temptingly when the first vineyard that I had seen in Belgium predisplayed in a large though low shop, was doomed to sented itself. Certainly it had a pretty look; the discover that she had made a bad bargain, for, out of clusters of purple grapes twined, as it were, round three penknives, two were broken at the first trial. The with the green leaves and graceful tendrils; one seemed chagrin of the fair purchaser appeared to be a source of as it were insensibly reminded of Italy, and those much merriment to some mustachiod and whiskered beauteous representations of the old masters, where gentleman to whom she was relating her mishap, and they so frequently introduce a vineyard in the backthe grapes were swallowed between a grin and a laugh ground of their choicest subjects. I must in justice to as he listened to the story of the fractured blades. As dear Old England give the preference, beautiful as soon as I could leave the table I departed on a tour some of the vineyards are, to the hop-gardens of Kent. round the place. The church, or cathedral, as it is The poles are higher, and group themselves into more properly called, is of very little interest. There is more fantastic forms when swayed or tossed by the wanthe tomb of the gallant Don John of Austria, who died ton winds. The aroma of the hop, too, is so delicious, near Namur, from the effects of poison, administered to and there is not that tendency to fall utterly prostrate him by the emissaries of his brother, Philip II. of Spain. in the bines, that so often militates to the prejudice of An old tradition has asserted, that the reason of the grape-vine. The grapes we tasted at a house near this very unbrotherly act was the belief of Philip, that Huy were of pleasant flavour, not too sweet, and small, Elizabeth of England would bestow her hand on the both singly and in bunches. Some wine made from the conquering hero of so many valorous days. However same vines at the last year's vintage was most unpatrue it may be that Philip was influenced by such a mo-latable, and afforded a bad specimen of the general tive for his brother's assassination, there do not exist quality, of which we were told it was a fair average. any authentic data for supposing our English monarch ever contemplated such an alliance. The church of St. Loup is one mass of decorations, gildings, arabesques, quaint confessionals, coloured marbles, and carvings. Coming from the daylight it had a handsome appearance. The ceiling is elaborately chased in white stone,

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There are some noble views, comprising rock, river, trees, winding roads, luxuriant pastures, retired châteaux, to be seen between Huy and Liege. As this latter place is neared, however, the face of the country assumes a more cultivated aspect, and the rocks and forestcrowned heights recede into a beautiful fertile valley.

Poetry.

In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.

VILLAGE LYRICS.

No. I. THE SANCTUARY.

W. BRAILSFORD.

STILL clings the ivy to the wall; Still the elm tree's shadows fall, Over grave and tomb:

Still flows the gentle river on, With a sweet murmur of its own

Music in the gloom.

And still, from yonder moss-grown tower, The bell is heard at Sabbath hour,

Calling men to pray.

Many a heart, that now lies cold,
Underneath the darksome mould,

Bent its thoughts this way.

Ah! the days of our childhood's spring,
When the mind was a gallant thing,
Strong to do and dare:

As life's summer creepeth slowly,
Losing sense of symbols holy,

How it droops to care!

Ever to the world grown fonder,
How we droop, and seldom ponder
On our early time:
When the sound of the village bell
Subdued old griefs, like magic spell
From some eastern clime;

Bringing thoughts of peace and heaven,
With no measure of earth's leaven;
Pointing, with the spire,
To that highest source of sweetness,
Where perfection, and completeness,
Are the soul's desire.

Yet, sometime in the busy crowd,
When cares and woes the spirits shroud,
Bells upon the wind

Will tremble o'er the wearied brain,
And bring in gentle calm again
The old Church left behind.

Miscellaneous.

-

"I have here made only a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own, but the string that ties them."-Montaigne.

How common it is to hear people talk about conscience, and yet how few there are who consider what it is; for conscience is an agreement or coincidence of the judgment of man with the judgment of God. When conscience condemns what God approves, or approves what God condemns, it is no longer conscience, but deceit and delusion. The conscience of the Quaker assures him that it is needless to be baptized, and the conscience of the Socinian scruples the worship of the Church of England as idolatry; but there is no more reason in the one or the other than in that conscience of the Musselmans which sends them two thousand miles on a pilgrimage to the tomb of their false prophet.-Jones of Nayland.

THE other morning I happened to rise earlier than ordinary, and thought I could not pass my time better

than to go upon the admonition of the morning bells to the church prayers at six of the clock. I was there the first of any in the congregation, and had the opportunity, however I made use of it, to look back on all my life, and contemplate the blessing and advantage of such stated early hours for offering ourselves to our Creator, and prepossess ourselves with the love of him, and the hopes we have from him against the snares of business and pleasure in the ensuing day. . . . Were this morning solemnity as much in vogue, even as it is now, at more advanced hours of the day, it would necessarily have so good an effect upon us, as to make us more disengaged and cheerful in conversation, and less artful and insincere in business. The world would be quite another place than it is now the rest of the day, and every face would have an alacrity in it which can be borrowed from no other reflections but those which give us the assured protection of Omnipotence.- Addison.

FEET OF THE CHINESE WOMEN.

THAT a whole race should take so much trouble, inflicting and undergoing so much pain, to deface and damage the body, is strange. It is the most universal and curious kind of mutilation practised in any country, and shows how dangerous it is to permit fashion, leagued with false notions of beauty, to tamper with the wholesome operations of nature. There is little doubt that the practice began at first in a small way and with slight results, in a desire of doing what they might, by artificial contrivances, to help in the formation of a small well-arched, female foot, and that it crept on with increasing force, though by scarcely perceptible movements, till it reached its present universal extent, and power of at once destroying all the beauty of the foot, and all but annihilating its functions. While the foot is stunted and crippled the leg wastes, loses its symmetrical roundness and waving outline, and, though other parts of the body are still in a state of vigorous growth. shrinks and withers like a palsied limb need scarcely be added that such a condition of the lower extremities must interfere materially with the power of locomotion. Walking is difficult and painful, the gait being uncertain and waddling: the maimed object totters, is in continual danger of falling, and, beyond short distances in girlhood, gladly avails herself of the help of a stick. Yet all this is done and suffered, sacrificing at once beauty and usefulness, in the absurd ambition of completing Nature's operations, and surpassing the scheme of creative wisdom.— Wilson's Medical Notes on China.

It

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No. 86.]

London Magazine:

A JOURNAL OF ENTERTAINMENT AND INSTRUCTION
FOR GENERAL READING.

VOL. IV.

JUNE 19, 1847.

The Children in the Wood.

(FROM THE NEW WATER-COLOUR EXHIBITION.)

UNSTAMPED, 1d.
STAMPED, 24d.

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ACCOUNT OF THE GREAT FLOOD AT

DRESDEN, IN THE YEAR 1845.'

thresholds, pieces of furniture, garden-fences, railings, &c., betokening the heavy accidents which must have befallen the villages and towns higher up the river. Glancing across the vast expanse of water to the oppo

flood had made into Neustadt and the more eastern suburbs. All the chief streets of those parts opening on the river, together with a number of small lanes runeastern extremity chiefly by the back-water of a brook ning into them, were extensively flooded, those at the

The

THE night from Saturday to Sunday was stormy and cold; but, notwithstanding this latter favourable cir-site side, the eye could partly discern the inroads the cumstance, the water had risen up to eight ellen, the height of the famous inundation of 1799, and still continued rising. With terror the people watched the register, and saw inch after inch continually gained by the raging waves. When, on the morning of this never-coming there into the right bank of the Elbe. to-be-forgotten sabbath, I went to the door of my house, I was dismayed at the progress the water had made during the night, and hastily ran back to order all those preparations which I have already named. When this was done, I became desirous of getting a survey of the dominion of the flood in other parts of the town, as far as anxiety respecting my own situation would allow. In two hours the water had overstepped our threshold, and tanners in their great coats were busy erecting the tressel-bridge in our street, to which, from every door, a board led over. Having thus a mode of egress, I soon directed my steps to the great focus of attraction, the bridge, and Brühlische Terrace; but you cannot form an idea, from my poor description, in any measure adequate to the reality of the sight which the river presented. If you can picture to yourself a quiet, inoffensive, nay, ever-amiable and lovely being, wrought up by some extraordinary occurrence to a height of passion, bordering on frenzy, then you may have something of the impression I wish to convey. On passing through the Zwinger, at the entrance leading towards the river, I was met by a rush of water, which, gushing out from one of the sewers, seemed the fierce messenger to announce the speedy occupation also of this pretty spot. Arrived at the Terrace, I stood fixed to the earth in awe and admiration, not unmixed with inward shuddering, For now, it might be about noon, the water-mark was already over nine, and very little below the enormous floods of 1784. Frightful was the rush of the torrent through the arches of the bridge, for the bed of the river is narrowed at that part by the houses on both sides, and by the Brühlische Terrace. The water was actually higher by an elle on one side of the bridge than on the other, several of the arches being entirely stopped up it seemed, indeed, but too probable, that, in consequence of the enormous weight it had to sustain, the noble structure would at length be swept away. For it was not the pressure of water alone which threatened destruction; it was rather the enormous quantities of timber floating down the river. Large trunks of trees, masts, and beams, either with their thick ends ran against the When I returned to my home, after this hasty survey piers like catapults of old, or, swinging round, came across of the town, I found that a boat had replaced the bridge the arches, where, tossed by the fury of the torrent, they in our street, the latter having become useless from the were splintered into a thousand fragments. Still, the bulwark of by gone centuries nobly withstood these that the water was within two or three inches of my rising of the water. I also perceived, to my dismay, shocks, and carriages and passengers went over it with threshold. It now appeared, indeed, too probable that the fullest confidence in its solidity and long-tried exthe water would actually enter our house, and pour cellence. In the place of the ice, the stream was now through it into the court-yard behind, which, being perfectly covered, not only with the larger species of lower than the street, would have been filled ere this timber, but with thousands of logs cut short for fire- had not the walls of houses on every side prevented the wood, together with stores of planks and boards from entrance of the water. It was not until this moment timber-yards. Some of these latter were situated in the that we were convinced of our mistake in supposing lower parts of the town, and within sight of the that we were safe from the attacks of the enemy. A Brühlische Terrace, whence the havoc could be clearly very little farther rise would now be sufficient to overdiscerned. It was really distressing to see how, one by flow our warm and comfortable apartments. The conone, the valuable stores, built up in huge stacks, were lifted up majestically from their places, carried into templation of this event saddened our spirits, and the middle of the stream, and then overturned, and though we sat down to dinner as usual, neither my wife nor I could enjoy our meal. But we forced ourscattered widely over the river. But still more dis-selves to take some refreshment, under the idea that tressing was it to distinguish, among the floating mate- strength might be wanted to bear the coming trial. rials, portions of human habitations-house-doors, Scarcely had we risen from table when, on looking into the yard, I say little bubbles rising in the softer parts

most imposing view of the whole scene was gained by persons standing in the garden of the Japanese palace. From this height they could clearly see the imminent danger which threatened the bridge and town. Looking extensive lake, out of which only the trees, forming the downwards, the whole valley appeared like a wide and avenues of the Gehege, raised their lofty heads: on the opposite side, poor Friederichstadt looked out from the waves, a second Venice. Leading to the last-mentioned suburb from Altstadt, is a fine avenue of chestnut trees, more than a hundred years old. This connexion kept up by an odd medley of conveyances. Besides a was now nearly cut off for foot-passengers, and was only few boats that plied between the insulated spots, there were also several carts, droskies, and other vehicles, in full activity, carrying over heavy loads of people, not so much as a matter of necessity, but for the enjoyment and amusement of the younger portion of the populace, state of things, which to their elders was a matter of who, in their thoughtlessness, were delighted with a sadness and anxiety. To gratify their eagerness to cross the flooded way, robust men were seen, with large boots up to the thighs, wading through the water, and bearing in succession not a few of the crowd for a trifling sum. At the end of this avenue there is a bridge over the Weisseritz leading to Friederichstadt. From this bridge, the havoc going on might also be obtained. The whose arches were now nearly filled up, a good view of water here was nearly all back-water, caused by the torrent of the Elbe driving back the waters of the Weisseritz. The occupants of a great many old and low-built houses in this neighbourhood were busily engaged in removing their furniture to the top story, or in leaving their habitations altogether. It was certainly a sign of a protecting Providence, as well as a proof of the efficiency of the precautions adopted by the authorities, that in the midst of all these scenes of confusion no accident occurred, but everything was conducted in perfect order and quiet. Charity, hospitality, and Christian kindness were abroad to assist the needy, and shelter those who were driven from their homes. kindness was even extended to animals: a number of pigs, for instance, were rescued from their flooded sty, and carried into an up-stairs room for safety.

(1) Concluded from p. 100.

This

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